


Tatooine, not long after

by von_gikkingen



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Boba Fett & Fennec Shand Friendship, F/M, Gen, Mentioned Boba Fett, Mentioned Fennec Shand, POV Original Character, Planet Tatooine (Star Wars), Post-Jabba's Palace (Star Wars), Shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29995509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gikkingen/pseuds/von_gikkingen
Summary: “Just... bear in mind you’re more than just the galaxy’s leading authority in making terrible decisions. You’re also an extra in the story of the Boba Fett,” I say – with possibly too much emphasis. But, well, the man was a legend. No point in pretending otherwise. “You’re here for the really good chapters too. And it’s really upsetting that you don’t seem to appreciate that. My little sister would trade with you in a heartbeat, you know. She thinks this is the best lovestory ever to take place on Tatooine and will fight anyone who dares contradict her.”
Relationships: Boba Fett/Fennec Shand, Pershing & Boba Fett, Pershing (Star Wars) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Tatooine, not long after

**Author's Note:**

> while braving the internet one day I stumbled upon some fanart on the subject of Fennec and Boba forcibly adopting Pershing and dragging him with them to Tatooine... 
> 
> an idea I personally can't even with... hence, this story...

“What broke this time?”

“Why would you assume something broke?”

“This place is ancient, I’m a mechanic. One that has been called here to fix broken life support systems several times before,” I utter tonelessly. “But you’re telling me everything is in working order. Am I getting that right? So... what? Did you lure me here under false pretences, doctor...?”

I know that is absolutely _not_ what is happening here. Still I say the words, just to see him get all flustered. Because it is crazy easy to do that and it is not... _not_ fun.

“They got me a bacta tank. I need you to get it installed,” replies Pershing after considering denying what I just accused him of and deciding to just ignore my words altogether instead.

I take a moment to ponder that. A bacta tank. Well, that was good news in a way. Meant that the work I did on the internal machinery that's keeping this ancient place livable was having _some_ effect.

It also meant _someone_ was preparing for the worst. Which would make this a perfect moment to either get impressed by Boba Fett for wishing to be ready for every eventuality – or get really worried about what his plans might be if he was getting this place that kind of serious medical tech.

Not a question that can be easily answered. And so I do what I always do and focus on the work at hand.

“Lead the way,” I say. Unnecessarily.

Truth is I know my way around this place better than he does. I’ve been forced to visit back when it was Jabba’s palace. Been dragged here under threat of violence once during Bib Fortuna’s rule. And since the latest violent takeover I’ve been here several times – treated politely and well compensated for my time.

 _And_ I got to spend some quality time with one of the New Republic’s most wanted. That was a surprisingly nice bonus. Because for his rather long list of crimes – that mostly came down to complicity with nefarious plans of a former Moff – Pershing was rather pleasant company. Soft-spoken and always polite and just a little uncertain of himself in almost every situation. Which might have been the result of finding himself on Tatooine of all places and in service of a rather legendary member of the bounty hunter’s guild on top of that. Or maybe it was just how he was and he’d be just as desperate to seem well-behaved and unwilling to cause disturbances no matter where he found himself.

“Done anything fun this weekend?” I ask, as we walk the dusty corridors leading to the bowels of the old fortress.

“Gave myself a headache trying to figure out why am I here,” he replies wryly.

“Oh...? Are we treating that as a mystery? I just assumed you liked sand.”

“No one likes sand.”

I grin at that even as I feel a soft sadness rising in me.

It always comes. Just as he makes it obvious I’m about the only person he has to talk to.

There are the other two permanent inhabitants of this creepy old fortress on the edge of the Dune Sea but I have hard time picturing him being able to talk to either of them – and not just because they’re very much the silent types. He’s far too uncertain in his freedom to risk saying the wrong thing, something to make them realize that it has been a mistake to board that New Republic prison transport and forcefully invite him to come with them to Tatooine. Which was certainly an alternative to having to face trial for his crimes. How could he not have taken that deal?

Even if he wasn’t sure what possessed Fett to want to have him around freedom was freedom. Of course he wanted his.

But that was then and this was several weeks later and it was apparently becoming harder to ignore now. The fact he did _not_ know why he was here.

I really rather liked the man but he was overthinking this. Rather than be glad that he wasn't stuck in a cell somewhere – which might be a little too familiar an experience given how much freedom of movement he was enjoying under his previous employer – he was wallowing in worry and apparently convinced this cannot last. Bracing himself for some problematic command any day now. Some unethical line of research he’ll be asked to follow by the man who's palace he now lived in.

In the middle of one of the greatest stories that ever took place on this sad, sandy little world and he was too certain things will not go well for him to appreciate any of it. No wonder I always got sad listening to him for too long.

“You do know they most likely want a bacta tank because it’s always better to have one and don’t need it than to need one and...”

And my words trail off because the look on his face tells me that actually he never even thought of that. Too certain this was bad news to realize it was in fact a not unreasonable precaution. For all that it was mostly sand Tatooine still could be a dangerous place – and no one knew that better than the former bounty hunter who now wore scars of a survivor.

But Pershing’s mind never made that connection. It was forever making the same assumptions about how anything and everything that happened in his vicinity somehow spelled a new disaster for him. And apparently he could always make whatever facts he was dealing with support that belief.

What an unfriendly place this galaxy must have seemed to him...

“I’m going to need your help. With the installation,” I add in a way of explanation, when my words earn me a _very_ confused look from the scientist.

“The whole reason you are here is because I don’t have the kind of technical skills needed. It’s not my area.”

“Oh, I know what you area is,” I say under my breath, low enough for him not to hear it. “Galaxy’s leading expert on seeing problems that aren’t actually there.”

“Did you say something?” he frowns.

“Not a thing. But I will. I’m going to do a lot of talking in the next hour and _you_ are going to be in the room for it, doctor. Because there are things _someone_ needs to make clear to you and... Well, I don’t see anyone else here so I guess the job is mine.”

I bite back one last remark on the subject of _definitely_ charging him for it. But just barely. 

“I don’t understand what you...”

“You will. When I’m done talking,” I say before pointing at a familiar looking door the basement corridor leads us to, “It’s through here...? Really? That is an inconvenient place keep med facilities... Then again, this place has _not_ been built with convenience in mind. I always thought whoever the architect was, way back when, must have drawn the plans while spiced out of his mind.”

He says nothing as he follows in my wake. And when I glance his way, having given the machinery I’m supposed to be working on a quick once-over, I see he’s pretty much radiating uncertainty.

“Here’s the thing,” I say, reaching for one of the tools hanging from my belt, locating and removing it by touch alone, never breaking eyecontact with him. “I think you’re telling the story wrong.”

“What... story...?” he frowns.

Anyone else would have treated me to an outburst to _what are you on about_ right about now. Not him. As confused as he currently was – because, really, what _was_ I on about – he was still going to stand there and hear me out.

“That’s just the thing. You only ever think about yours. The one you’re the hero of. No reflection on you, everyone does that,” I add quickly. “Everyone forgets. For the one story we’re at the center of there are hundreds, thousands, we’re on the periphery of. But that doesn’t make them _not our stories_. They still are. More so than the big one. The one we can’t help telling ourselves.”

“That’s... an interesting philosophy,” he comments. Words spoken just to be saying something and I can just tell he’s suspecting me of getting ready to add something along the lines of how we’re all connected through the force. A belief I'm not entirely sure I _don’t_ share, but... that’s really not what I’m talking about here.

“Look, you’ll drive yourself mad with worry if all you’re ever telling yourself is... Well, I wonder. A story of a scientist whose brilliant brain somehow stops working the second he’s asked to make an alliance. Who somehow got himself backed into a corner so unfortunate he had to go to monsters for protection.”

He visibly tenses at my words and I force myself to stop fiddling with the components in my hands so that I can give him my full attention.

“It’s... not that it’s not a great story. I’m sure it has some great moments. But it also has... patterns. You make a bad decision and then you make a worse one to escape the fallout from that and then it just... keeps going, doesn’t it? Trouble accumulates.”

“You know what the New Republic says I did,” he says, nodding to himself. Unsurprised.

“I know what the bounty on you is,” I add for good measure. “And why I won’t be collecting it. Besides the obvious reasons that is. See, I don’t think you appreciate this but... You’re not the first guy to get so damn excited about the possibility of interesting line of research that he misses all the warning signs and doesn’t realize things have gone a bit unethical. It happens. That’s why I had to scroll through hundreds of people with scientific background the New Republic _really_ wants to see in their courts before I managed to locate your record.”

I give him a moment. Let him figure out how he feels about what I just told him. Besides, I do have a thing I’m meant to be doing and – telling him the facts of life? Not it.

“So you’re saying I’m not that special and need to get over myself,” he says a moment later, making me grin at the control panel I’m in the process of assembling.

“Oh, doctor... but you _are_. And don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He sighs. It is a very... expressive sound. One that tells me he’s wondering why he hasn’t left the room yet. “Is it because none of those hundreds of scientists the Republic wants ever thought going to work for Moff Gideon would be a good idea?” he asks, almost resignedly.

“Obviously,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to flash him a smile. “At least you know how stupid that was.”

“I didn’t have many options then,” he says. But he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to justify possibly _the_ worst judgement call he ever made in his life. Just... stating facts.

I might have a few things to say about that but I don’t. No point in that. Besides, we are straying from the subject here.

“And that’s the story,” I say as though he hasn’t spoken. “The one you’re telling yourself. And because it’s _the only one_ you’re telling yourself you are constantly worried this is just another in a series of unfortunate events. Another thing you were forced to do to escape all your past mistakes that will ultimately turn out just to be just another one. Most likely the worst one yet.”

“Do you really think I believe that?”

“You act like do.”

He has nothing to say to that. Not surprising. I stop playing with the machinery of the still only half-constructed bacta tank and take a step towards him.

“You have many reasons to be worried. You do. This world has monsters and sand and very little besides. But we _do_ get real pretty sunsets, though. Do you ever take the time to watch one...?”

No, of course he didn’t. That would interfere with his constant worrying and he was not having that.

“Just... bear in mind you’re more than just the galaxy’s leading authority in making terrible decisions. You’re also an extra in the story of _the_ Boba Fett,” I say – with possibly too much emphasis. But, well, the man was a legend. No point in pretending otherwise. “You’re here for the really good chapters too. And it’s really upsetting that you don’t seem to appreciate that. My little sister would trade with you in a heartbeat, you know. She thinks this is the best lovestory ever to take place on Tatooine and will fight anyone who dares contradict her.”

“A _what_ story?”

It is occasionally fun to watch him struggle with some unexpected new information, true, but I’ve never once saw him this thoroughly uncomprehending.

“Well... she _is_ fourteen,” I chuckle. “So she’s definitely choosing the facts to focus on according to that. But, you know... It’s not terribly difficult to believe that’s what's going on here. All the right ingredients are there. Finding a beautiful, dangerous woman dying on the sands, having to nurse her back to health... We both know he lets her sit on his throne. That’s how a man treats his queen.”

Pershing’s confused expression undergoes only the most minute of changes on hearing that. Still plenty amusing to watch but... I get the distinct impression of a man who is revisiting some of the things he might or might not have witnessed within these walls. Looking at them in new light. _Wondering_...

“No...” I say. The sound stretched out, tainted by my excited disbelief.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No. You didn’t. You have the answer to the thing _everyone on the face of this planet_ has been wondering about and you’re _not talking_. That is _evil_ , doctor.”

“Everyone on this planet? Really?” he says, in a tone of someone who may or may not believe I’m merely exaggerating. And here I am, _wishing_ I was.

“They are, aren’t they?” I say because the question demands to be asked.

“I haven’t seen anything... conclusive.”

“Well, pay more attention then,” I say, with annoyance that isn't entirely faked. “Seriously, what are you doing here all days?”

“Not spying on the people I owe way too much to.”

“It’s not spying. It’s... being observant.”

It’s only then I catch up to how I sound. Consider the a little too excited expression on my face that an adult has no damn business wearing – because what effect do other people’s relationships have on my life exactly...?

And yet, how can one not internally go _good for them_ when considering Boba Fett and Fennec Shand. The lives they led. The way those lives almost ended. The fact that they’re still here, against all odds. That they became each other’s odds, bound together by life debt as they were...

“For what it’s worth they do seem... close. I just never considered they might be _that_ close,” says Pershing.

“Of course you didn’t. You’d have to be a fourteen year old girl,” I chuckle. “Convinced it’s all wonderfully dramatic and intense and oh-so-romantic. It’s not. Just... life. But one of the better things about it and those two... Their lives haven’t been fun for the most part. You kind of want them to have _something_ to make it better.”

“I suppose,” he nods, still somewhat lost in his own thoughts. Mentally revisiting memories that gained a whole new significance now.

I leave him to it. Besides I do vaguely remember something about a bacta tank. The reason I’m actually here. Obviously. They would never pay me to make the trip from Mos Eisley just so I can gossip with their pet scientist.

That wasn’t the job – just one of the major perks of it.

“Is it gonna make things any better?” I wonder as I turn around to get back to the machinery I’ve been ignoring for the last few minutes. “Knowing you get to be an extra in _that_ kind of story.”

“I... still don’t know what you mean by _that kind of story_ ,” he says after thinking about it for a second.

I chuckle at that. Can’t help it. “Tell you what... you find another excuse for me to come here and I’ll bring along a teenage girl that can explain it to you. What’s your tolerance for eyes that are actually _sparkling_ with the sheer excitement...? What about people who can’t control the volume when they get talking on their favourite subject...? Use the word _ship_ as a verb... somehow...”

He doesn’t know what to say to that but, well, who can blame him. I never do. But I sure as hell jump on every opportunity to take a job out of town just so I can get a little respite from the overexcited minor who seems utterly convinced that the assassin and the bounty hunter are... how does she always put it? Oh yes. _Relationship goals_.

On the second thought bringing her here, to the place her favourite couple in all the galaxy lives might not be the best idea...

“Can you hand me that motivator?” I ask, making him snap out of his reverie.

“The... what?”

“Top of your field and completely useless when it comes to anything outside of that one narrow area of expertise...?”

It’s not quite a question, not quite an observation. He sighs, in a way that almost sounds like he’s conceding the point and comes closer. Looking at the last few uninstalled machine parts with the attitude of a man who’s willing to guess. Wrong. But willing, though...

“Nope. Try again,” I chuckle, seeing where his hand is headed.

“Or maybe you can just...”

“How are you ever going to learn if I do it for you?” I grin.

“Why is it necessary for me to get involved again?”

“Not strictly speaking necessary. But, you know... you’re an extra in _my_ story too. And as such you will be expected to actually _do something_ every now and then. Sucks, I know, but it’s just how these things work.

“By that logic you are an extra in mine,” he points out.

“Oh, _I know_. And I’ve been putting in overtime lately. Emotional support, spelling out the obvious... you name it...”

That actually earns me a smile.

“Now, do you want to try again?”

He actually does get the motivator that time. Grinning I get back to my work. Not terribly focused on getting it done quickly – but then working in this desert warlord HQ that’s rarely my priority.

The company is too good for me to be in hurry to leave. 


End file.
